


who can live without it?

by funflighthome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, and niall louis harry are excellent wingmen, and zayn loves that about him, liam is in jazz band, like huge amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funflighthome/pseuds/funflighthome
Summary: liam can’t remember exactly when he stopped discreetly saying, “band” when asked by people what he does at school, so that he could leave them under the illusion that maybe he played guitar or something equally cool in an actual, rock-and-roll-esque band band, instead of the reality of playing trumpet in a teacher-conducted jazz band of 20 other mostly brass instrument-wielding nerds.

or the nerdy jazz band version of 1D with exactly the same amount of pining and miscommunication.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by the legendary ABBA song, Thank You For the Music. this fic has been a long time coming and is the direct result of erika taking me seriously and giving me an actual prompt in response to this tweet: https://twitter.com/landoftears/status/717461753295024128
> 
> i set this fic in the canadian bradford (ontario) so excuse the lack of british-y terms.

liam can’t remember exactly when he stopped discreetly saying, “band” when asked by people what he does at school, so that he could leave them under the illusion that maybe he played guitar or something equally cool in an actual, rock-and-roll-esque _band_ band, instead of the reality of playing trumpet in a teacher-conducted jazz band of 20 other mostly brass instrument-wielding nerds. (though their conductor, ms. watson, was pretty cool; she gave the best music recommendations and liam occasionally babysat her daughter and relished in the walls lined with old records in their home). he supposed at some point he stopped caring so much about how cool playing trumpet was and more about the actual band itself, because they’re actually pretty good and they’d been steadily improving and they deserved it! he’d been doing pretty well, too, at not caring if jazz band was cool anymore; hadn’t blushed at the sight of his bulky trumpet case on top of his locker in months—but in this moment, he was having trouble remembering why he had ever joined jazz band in the first place. 

“why are you here so late anyways, bro?” 

liam knew the question was coming before he heard it but it still made him blush nonetheless. the boy who asked it cut a confusing figure; his leather jacket and ripped jeans fit the scene of the chain-link fence he leaned against and the stamped out cigarette butts on the ground, but liam could also see what looked like a black panther comic book spilling out of his bag on the ground and the shirt underneath his leather jacket had tiny handprints on them, like a small child had dipped their hands in paint and pressed them all over his shirt. liam knew, to some degree, who this boy was. he’d have to be pretty daft not to know; zayn malik wasn’t someone you didn’t notice, even if he _was_ pretty quiet. he had the kind of face that you couldn’t forget—those brown doe eyes, eyelashes that left literal shadows (liam had checked, once, when zayn had passed by his booth for arts week in the fall, and had gotten dizzy at the sight of them), lips that, well. lips that liam did his best not to think about too much. but liam also vividly remembers seeing him around clubs week at their school, and how someone at almost every table zayn passed by had a warm smile or a friendly wave for him. so, yes, liam did know this boy, however distantly, and there was nothing he wanted to do less in this moment than tell zayn malik that he stayed so late after school because of _jazz band_. 

“well, uh, I have um… I have jazz band?” liam could already feel his face flaming. “so I was just leaving, and well, I realized I promised my friend—harry, you know, the one with the curls?—I’d grab him some reeds. they’re, um, they’re those things you use for saxophones—“ 

“I know what reeds are, liam,” zayn was smiling at him amusedly and it was so blinding that liam almost didn’t have time to absorb that zayn _knew his name_.

“right, so, I asked ms. watson for the reeds, but she told me they’re in her car, and to bring the sheet music too, so she gave me her keys,” he jingled them in his hand, “to grab them. except, well, the sheet music bin wasn’t closed nearly as securely as I thought, which is why,” and liam gestured mournfully to the mess of papers at zayn’s feet.

liam let out a whoosh of air at the end of his explanation and chanced a look at zayn’s face, ready for an expression of boredom or complete disregard, but instead zayn was looking at him intently, that blinding smile still there. “today doesn’t seem to be your lucky day, does it, liam?”

liam was lost for a moment on the way zayn stretched out his name with his accent, the way his lips formed around it. “yeah, I guess not,” he chuckled nervously. “but thanks for helping though! can I ask why you’re here, though?” he asked shyly, reaching out a hand for the papers zayn had collected moments before. 

“I guess this is just where I go to clear my head, honestly,” zayn admitted. “my sisters all have their friends over all at once and it’s kind of a little much for one guy, you know,” he shrugged, giving liam a lopsided smile.

“you have sisters? me too! aren’t they the worst?”

“the worst and the best,” zayn laughed. “I don’t know what I’d do without them actually.”

liam stared at him for a little bit at that, his heart expanding painfully at his words. “um, well,” he started suddenly, “I guess I should be getting back then.”

zayn waved him away, nodding. “sorry, sorry, shouldn’t have kept you!”

“no, no, that’s not—! It was nice talking to you, zayn, really,” liam assured him, sure that if nothing else, at least zayn won’t remember him as the jerk that blamed him for his own fall. he turned to go, rushing back into the school, and it was only as he turned the corner into the music hallway that he realized zayn had organized the music back into order of instrument.

***

“hey liam, could you come here for a moment?”

liam ran over quickly to ms. watson, hoping he’d still make it for the friday lunch rush. “is something wrong?”

“no, I just wanted to thank you for reorganizing my sheet music when you got it for me on monday. I never put my music in order like that; I’m not that neat,” she joked.

liam turned red. “actually, that was zayn malik? I kind of dropped the box and he was there and helped me pick them up.”

ms. watson’s whole face brightened at the mention of zayn. “of course he did! whenever he comes over he always leaves the house cleaner than he found it.”

“zayn at—sorry but why would zayn be at your house?”

“oh, he lives right next door! he’s so good with brooklyn; always comes over to play when he’s not busy.”

liam felt overwhelmed with information. waving goodbye to ms. watson, he walked towards the cafeteria, appetite suddenly forgotten. zayn… zayn malik lived right beside the same place he had been babysitting at for 2 years now. zayn malik had played around with the same kid he had been babysitting for 2 years now. liam’s mind was suddenly flooded with images of zayn with brooklyn: zayn chasing brooklyn around in the backyard, zayn giving her piggy-back rides, zayn making silly faces at her… the thought made his heart hurt a bit.

“liam!” liam looked up to see zayn waving at him from a table in the caf, and he was so caught up in his thoughts of zayn from before that he shot him a fond, obvious smile. nothing could have prepared liam for the soft look zayn sent back at him, and liam narrowly missed tumbling right over a chair that had been probably kicked out into his path towards zayn’s table. “you wanna eat with us today, liam? this is louis, by the way, and that one there is niall,” zayn waved his hand at a smaller boy with sandy brown hair and another one with a shock of blond. liam knew both of them; he remembered louis from drama club in grade 9 (louis had started the first meeting off with a bang, arriving in a full peter pan costume and unsuccessfully rigging the fly system to send him hovering across the stage only to land in a heap on top of the drama teacher) and niall from music club (liam had been shocked at the way niall had switched between 5 different instruments in their first meeting, energy bubbling over as he flew all over the room from instrument to instrument).

“have a seat, payno, have a seat!” louis almost threw a chair at liam in his willingness to offer up a seat, and liam smiled bemusedly at his apparent new nickname as he took it. “so, what are your intentions with our zaynie here?”

liam looked back at him in shock while zayn suddenly choked on a fry. “I don’t—well there isn’t—“ 

“oh, don’t mind louis, he’s always like this,” niall grinned at liam in a way that made liam think he wasn’t being completely truthful. “but just curious—how _did_ you finally notice zayn?”

the wording of niall’s question was a bit ridiculous, to liam—the better question would be when did he start noticing zayn, or how did he ever learn how to _not_ notice zayn, or better yet, why did zayn notice him at all. “I didn’t—that is, I never noticed him. no, I mean—! he helped me with some music sheets because I dropped them all after school a couple days ago.”

“you’re telling _this_ story again, liam?” harry slid into a seat beside him, setting his lunch down. “sorry guys, the story really isn’t that exciting, I don’t know why he insists on telling it so much. I’m sure zayn here hasn’t been recounting their meet-cute every time he sees you, have you, zayn?”

liam stared at him with thinly disguised exasperation. he supposed, like every other person in this school, harry just happened to be best friends with them. it’s not as if harry and liam normally sat with the likes of zayn, louis, and niall (liam could only imagine what his life would be like if that were true), so the fact that harry sat down so casually at their table was a solid indication of such surprise friendships. though of course, it would be a very harry thing to do to sit down at a random table one day and act like that was an everyday occurrence.

“that’s where you’d be wrong, harry,” louis said gleefully. “loverboy here has even told his mom about—well there’s no need to kick me, zayn!” louis frowned at zayn, reaching down to rub at his shin. 

zayn turned to liam, smiling nervously. “hate to do this but louis and I actually have to go. i’ll see you monday, though?”

zayn dragged louis up from his seat and practically tugged him out of the cafeteria. 

as they disappeared out the door, liam could hear louis cackling. “look how red your face is, zayn! it’s like a tomato!”

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos/comments if you felt anything further than complete indifference!! ask me questions or tell me if you hate it and if you think i should stop writing altogether (i probably won't but with enough conviction maybe you can convince me!)


End file.
